


stacks of paper

by wandering_clouds



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_clouds/pseuds/wandering_clouds
Summary: Taeyong dreams of the future, Doyoung has the past waiting for him.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	stacks of paper

**Author's Note:**

> tw memory loss, more information in the end notes

“Could you remove your papers from my desk please?”

Those are the first words exchanged between Lee Taeyong and Kim Doyoung. 

It’s a special day—Taeyong’s very first day at his new workplace. He has just finished setting up his own space in the office when a shadow looms over him and pulls his eyes away from the screen of his computer, up to meet the gaze of another man.

A pair of dark eyes, pulling Taeyong in with an uncontrollable force from the very first second.

Embarrassed to come off as an inconvenience, Taeyong rushes to get up and bow in apology, then quickly collects his papers and moves them to his side.

He flushes furiously, “I’m so sorry, I’m Lee Taeyong!”, and with an awkward amount of enthusiasm, he holds out his hand for the other to shake.

The man replies with a curt nod and unwavering stare, “Nice to meet you, I’m Kim Doyoung.”

His delicate looking hand tightly grips Taeyong’s, the feeling of his touch lingering even after their hands part.

Taeyong’s heart drops into his stomach. 

Kim Doyoung is just tall enough to make Taeyong feel small, yet his voice is soothing and his face so pretty, it leaves him both flustered and intrigued.

~

As Taeyong finds out, Doyoung is much kinder than he first came off in the morning too.

Around noon when he gets sleepy, Doyoung leaves his seat for a while.

Just as Taeyong catches himself dozing off, he reappears with a bag of sweet potato cubes.

They share them, and Taeyong feels caught in a sense of déjà vu. 

Again and again he steals glances at Doyoung, eyes almost magically pulled towards the way his t-shirt spans over his broad shoulders, and the infuriatingly attractive way he pushes back his hair once in a while when he gets frustrated over a task.

Taeyong doesn’t believe in love at first sight, and he doesn’t know Doyoung at all yet, but this is probably the closest to it that it can get. (Attraction at first sight, his mind unhelpfully adds.)

When it gets dark outside and he moves to leave, Doyoung asks him if he wants to have dinner with him. Taeyong’s breath catches, his heart starting to beat at an embarrassingly quick pace.

Refusing isn’t even an option.

~

Whenever their eyes meet over the table, Taeyong feels entranced. 

Talking to Doyoung makes him feel warm, as if he has found something he didn’t know he was searching for.

“This might be a cliché thing to say,” Taeyong admits during a moment of courage, “but it almost feels like we have met before.” 

He giggles, nervously, eyes directed towards his lap.

~

Doyoung walks him home in comfortable silence. 

Taeyong can’t stop thinking of the little distance between their hands, wishes he could reach out and curl his pinky around Doyoung’s, just to satisfy his curiosity.

He decides he has time, they have met only today - but one day in the future, if he’s interpreting the signals right and they keep spending time with each other, he just might.

They arrive in front of his apartment way too quickly: Taeyong wishes he could hold on to the magic of the evening for just a while longer.

For the first time that day an awkward silence appears between them, caused not by the lack of words—but those that aren’t dared to be spoken out loud.

Doyoung starts first, “Will you- will you be at the office again tomorrow morning?”

Taeyong laughs, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

An embarrassed exhale leaves Doyoung’s lips. “Right, why wouldn’t you.”

Hands awkwardly placed in the pockets of his pants and eyes directed towards the ground he looks lost right then, much different to the secure stance he has given off the rest of the day—and Taeyong feels himself overwhelmed by the wish to make him feel found.

He watches as Doyoung straightens up and looks back into the eyes again. 

“I guess I just wanted to make sure you’re not a figment of my imagination?” he says with a smile and voice filled with sincerity.

And for a moment, Taeyong is unable to pull away—longs to stand right here with Doyoung for at least a few more hours.

He manages to awkwardly wave his hand, face flushing up to the tips of his ears. “Bye then!”

Before he can wait for Doyoung’s response, he turns around and skips up the steps to his house.

As he puts his key into the lock, Doyoung calls for him again.

“Taeyong? Take care of yourself.”

Taeyong turns around and, for the last time of the night, sends Doyoung a grateful smile. “I will—you too.”

He closes the door behind him and he can feel his heart beat right out of his chest. Warmth fills him up from within, thinking back to the weight of Doyoung’s gaze.

And Taeyong wonders if Doyoung noticed the brightness of his smile, if he was able to hear the force with which Taeyong’s heart beat against his ribcage whenever he came close. 

He hopes this evening was just a prolog to their story, that the ring on Doyoung’s finger doesn’t mean a thing.

“Kim Doyoung,” he’ll whisper out loud to himself over and over again. 

And he’ll think of all the words he held back. 

* * *

The first thing that catches Doyoung’s eyes is a foreign stack of papers on his desk.

Nothing unusual, though he can feel the annoyance creep up on him.

He wills it down, as Taeyong used to tell him to. 

“ _The world isn’t out to get you,”_ he had once said, and so, thinking back, Doyoung swallows down the mean comment that sits on his tongue.

He puts on a polite expression, turns his face to the newcomer on the other side of the table, and then asks as calmly as possible, “Could you remove your papers from my desk please?”

And everything is fine.

Everything _was_ fine—at least Doyoung used to be able to lie to himself that it was. Convincing himself he was okay used to be enough.

Until this morning, when lying to himself isn’t enough anymore. When instead of a stranger’s, the pair of eyes that meet Doyoung’s are entirely too familiar.

Until this morning, when he looks back at Taeyong.

The universe roars around his center and Doyoung stays rooted in his spot enduring the pressure.

He watches as the eyes of the man he loves widen, not from recognition but embarrassment.

And he shakes the hand of the man he loves. The hand he used to hold.

He doesn’t hear his rushed apologies or his introduction, white noise in his ears drowning out every other sound.

Absentmindedly—he manages to introduce himself and to sit down at his seat.

And it’s a calm sunny morning, but inside of Doyoung there is a storm.

Naively he waits for Taeyong’s face to light up in recognition. Waits for a smile, a laugh. 

But nothing happens. There’s no exclamation of “Doie”, a nickname the Taeyong in front of him has never heard before—not that he remembers.

This Taeyong sees the wrinkles of Doyoung’s t-shirt, unaware that he used to be the one to iron them for him—and that now, Doyoung is a 32 years old man who doesn’t know how to use an iron because he never had to learn.

There are a lot of things this Taeyong doesn’t know.

And it’s painful, Doyoung feels as if he’ll suffocate from the tightness of his chest.

Yet, as it has always done from the first second that they met, his heart squeezes joyfully at the sight of Taeyong. Bittersweetly, being in the same space as him has Doyoung feeling as if after two years he’s found his way back to the place where he’s meant to be.

He always fit best right next to Taeyong’s side.

~

As he works, he is highly aware of his presence. From time to time his eyes land on Taeyong’s face and wander from his scrunched eyebrows, over the slope of his nose and down to his lips that stand open in concentration.

For a moment Doyoung allows himself to watch, to let the feelings he’s kept hidden run free and fill him to the brim.

~

Noon—he realises Taeyong hasn’t eaten anything all day—so he leaves to the convenience store a few floors down and buys the sweet potato cubes he knows Taeyong likes.

Acting nonchalant he asks, “Do you want some?” 

(As if he didn’t buy them for him, as if he planned to eat any of them at all.)

“Oh, those are actually my favorite!” Taeyong exclaims, eyes wide open in surprise and gratitude sounding through his voice.

His arm reaches over the desk to accept the bag and for a second their fingers brush, leaving Doyoung’s skin tingling and his heart engulfed in flames—and he wants to say _I used to buy these for you every single day_ . _I confessed the day you shared these with me for the first time, and I never liked them but I couldn’t say no to you._

Instead—he just smiles helplessly, “Lucky guess.”

~

The day passes, like that, the pointer of the clock wandering at the same pace as any other day—and yet, too quickly for Doyoung.

As dawn sets in and Taeyong collects his items from his desk, Doyoung speaks up in desperation. An attempt to hold on just a bit longer onto the ironic twist of fate he’s been faced with.

“I have only leftovers waiting for me and I’m not really looking forward to eating them,” he clears his throat, nervous, “would you like to come get dinner with me?”

For a second Taeyong stands still, caught off guard. Then he tilts his head and his lips stretch out into a soft smile, and Doyoung falls in love all over again.

“Sure, why not. I can’t leave you to the leftovers now, can I?”

Doyoung lets out a shaky breath in relief.

~

So—they leave the office together, Doyoung holding his briefcase tightly by his side as if trying to keep his grip on the world around him. Next to him, Taeyong who skips every second step.

They go to a small restaurant—Doyoung remembers taking Taeyong to the very same one once after he had picked him up from work.

He remembers how Taeyong’s eyes had lit up upon passing the doorstep, and just as back then his gaze brightens up once again.

But this time Doyoung can’t find any comfort in it.

“Wow. I didn’t know of this place, the interior decor is stunning.” Taeyong says, looking around in amazement once they’ve found a table, “I really like it here!”

“Thought you would.” The words pierce through his throat.

_Knew you would, actually._

_~_

It feels warm, being around Taeyong, talking to him. Peaceful in a way Doyoung knows he’ll never feel around anyone else.

Taeyong eats with delight, just as Doyoung remembers him doing. He tries to absorb every second of the warmth the sight leaves him with.

In between bites they make small talk. With beaming eyes, Taeyong asks Doyoung questions about the company, then Doyoung himself, and Doyoung tells him stories of all the interesting experiences he has had, erasing Taeyong out of every one as if he hadn’t been there by his side all along. 

As if Taeyong wasn’t the spine that had held the pages together.

“I wish I could do those things one day,” Taeyong hums, trying to meet Doyoung’s gaze with earnest interest, “you seem to live life fully—I aspire to be that way too, one day.” 

He laughs light-heartedly.

 _You have_ , Doyoung thinks, _You are._

Taeyong is the one who taught him to appreciate life. Before him, he didn’t use to be that way at all now, after him, he isn’t anymore either.

~

Once finished, he manages to convince Taeyong to let him pay, then he walks him home. 

Two figures under the night sky. The distance between them grows smaller with every corner that they turn.

Doyoung’s heart thumps loudly in his chest when their hands brush against each other and he wonders if Taeyong feels the same, if he even noticed at all.

If he as well is affected by the simple touch of a hand. 

Saying goodbye is difficult, too big the fear of it being a farewell.

But if it was, Doyoung thinks he would be lucky for being in Taeyong’s presence for just another day. 

_~_

Still, when Taeyong enters his apartment and leaves out of Doyoung’s sight, he has to rip himself away from staying stagnant in front of his doorway.

He walks back to his house, the one he can’t call home ever since he lives in it alone.

He opens the door to find himself back in the living room that has turned into a Still Life. With the table in the corner that is flooded by the same papers as the day on which everything changed.

They had stood on the doorstep and Doyoung had gently taken Taeyong’s face into his hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

As he pulled back Taeyong had looked at him with his eyes twinkling, and Doyoung, grumbling, had said “You better finally clean your papers off the table tonight, I can’t cook romantic dinners for you with nowhere to place them on.”

Taeyong had then laughed, and stolen another kiss from Doyoung’s lips.

“Don’t be too strict with me, I’ll be back faster and take care of my mess than you can even begin to miss me!”

Then he’d slipped out of Doyoung’s arms and walked out the door without looking back. 

And now the papers still lay there, untouched. 

So does the feeling of love and pain whenever Taeyong’s name comes up.

Life has continued but along the way Doyoung has stayed stuck in a time loop of the first few hours when Taeyong didn’t return. Time has stopped both for him and this house.

He hasn’t cooked any dinners again either.

It makes him feel numb, this place. 

Perhaps, if only Taeyong will appear at the office again tomorrow, maybe he will be fine then. Maybe he can change then. 

Throat constricting—he stands still in front of the chest of drawers that has one of their pictures framed on top of it.

Thinks of the box hidden behind it that carries the other ring inside of it, the one that Taeyong is supposed to be wearing but never got to know about.

It’s probably covered in dust by now. Doyoung doesn’t dare look.

Instead he sinks to the floor, lays back and thinks back to the smiles Taeyong sent him today, and then to all his countless smiles before that.

Memories over memories are stacked on top of each other, pressing down onto Doyoung’s ribcage. 

He imagines reliving them all over again. Imagines grabbing Taeyong’s hand and pulling him along to lead him to this house. 

He wonders if today’s Taeyong would even agree to tag along, if he’d still see the same qualities in Doyoung that made him fall in love with him all those years ago.

Tomorrow, Doyoung will have to finally leave behind the past. Just for tonight, he allows himself to dream of all the possibilities.

Memories are scattered across the ground like fallen stacks of papers.

**Author's Note:**

> This story implies memory loss, while used as storytelling aspect in this case please do keep in mind that amnesia isn't to be romantisized and a very real painful experience. I purposefully left what caused it unknown, as to not make any of the things that can cause memory loss seem light. 
> 
> I'm adding this thread by a person who suffers from memory loss opening up about their experience, for everyone who wants to know more about this topic.
> 
> [Thread](https://twitter.com/nakotteiijan/status/1326239623278964743?s=20)
> 
> kudos and comments are much appreciated!
> 
> love goes out to the alw mods and the dear friend that betaed this for me ♡


End file.
